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 Nov 23
betterdays
the
slow drip
of accumulated
moisture,
sliding
from
leaf to leaf
accentuated
by clear
bell-like bird
calls

myriad
shades of
green
and brown,
glistening
in sharp
shafts
of smoking sunshine,
that shifts at
each
wind's gust

far from the sidewalk
and
rat race running
we immerse ourselves
in primitivea
trekking
along tracks
seeking nothing more
than
the next step
the next vista,
revelling in our
cavemanesque
selves

We
unwind,
leaving
ribbons of
stress to
flutter
behind us
before
they
disappear
into mist
and then
become
zephyr
breeze
breaths
Each step
lighter
unburdened
we become more
fae and less
humane...
Working
not for the
daily bread
or even
the
eating
of it
But we come
for the
presence of the green
the prior
in ourselves.
the interaction
Simple cell
recalling
simple cell
and sighing
in relief
at finding
friend.

So wr
as our
collection
of priors
find places
mordial
and gather
to worship
To release
The inner
covers
of civility
and stand
in the grace
of the green
I am the definition of a god’s love

I may come bearing gifts
Showering you in adoration and devotion
wrapped in the most pleasurable ways
caring for you in ways you have never known
caressing your soul in the most intimate ways

only to leave when you least expect it

left begging at an alter
I’ve vacated and no longer visit
 Aug 17
guy scutellaro
some
float
up

slowly

the wind taking his hair
the wind blowing through him
skin and bone
the wind whistling through his teeth

some ride into the abyss

some are bounded
to cling to the earth,
rock and soil

some hang on to the edge

some ride the wild wind
into the Abyss

some see the river and fish

some rise up
when the lonely one asks for the them

does the abyss wait for you,
or did an angel come for you, brother

and if the earth is but a grain of sand
in the vastness of all the grains of sand
on all the beaches of an unfolding soul
drifting into the ripples of time,

I need to know, Lord?

the box

my brother on the dining room table.
ashes and memories.
 Jun 14
Mike Hauser
Who do you bow down to
When you're out n' about worshiping
Do you go to your cell phone
Or the throne of your T.V.

Do you idolize the car you drive
The faster that it goes
Or place yourself high on the shelf
When you are home alone

Is your gratitude placed on food
To get you through troubled times
Could it be the devil's drink
That makes everything alright

Who is your god that gives the nod
You spend your spare time with
If you had to go, it on your own
Would you feel you couldn't live

I can tell you, who you bow down to
While here, your heart still beats
Makes a difference in this life and
For all eternity
 Mar 15
Traveler
I need not identify to any gender
nor ethnic group to know myself.
I am exactly like you,
a spirit being having
a human experience.
Mostly invisible.

By the way...
It's good to be here with you.
Traveler Tim
 Jul 2023
irinia
a protest against emptiness?
the failure of forgetting the beginning of touch?
an unanswered question?
the sky inside the roots of trees?
the desert inside the heart of rain?
the dreams of the heat of the earth inside cold stones?
an uninterrupted dance of absence and semantics?
the memory of photons from the moment of conception?
the steam of bodies in the quiet air?

what if love is this cosmic urgency,
emergence with myriad faces,
a protest against the liveliness of
nothingness?
 Sep 2021
Mary Anne Norton
I am not alone
My God is walking with me
And holding my hand
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